Balsa wood boat Tom Sharp

My mind is a balsa wood boat, pulled by the current, tossed on the waves, sleepless with sorrow and worry. It’s stupid to be awake all night with nothing to celebrate, and nothing to drink. My heart is a sponge that sucks up misery like vinegar. I have brothers, but they’re useless. When I complained to them, they gave me no comfort. I was embarrassed by my weakness, and they were angry with me. My heart is not a rolling stone; it’s stuck. It’s not a straw mat that others can step on. It’s delicate, dignified, and elegant. It hurts me when others take advantage, when they lie and cheat to make themselves look good. I can’t help but feel hurt when I’ve been wronged, when petty people, full of hate, don’t mind insulting and humiliating me. In my quiet moments, I know it’s not me that’s at fault. Moonlight is the same to me as daylight. I watch out the night, sunset and sunrise. My sorrow is like the clothes I can’t take off. They haven’t been washed; they’re weighted down with sorrow.

柏舟 诗经

泛彼柏舟，亦泛其流。 耿耿不寐，如有隐忧。 微我无酒，以敖以游。 我心匪鉴，不可以茹。 亦有兄弟，不可以据。 薄言往愬，逢彼之怒。 我心匪石，不可转也。 我心匪席，不可卷也。 威仪棣棣，不可选也。 忧心悄悄，愠于群小。 觏闵既多，受侮不少。 静言思之，寤辟有摽。 日居月诸，胡迭而微？ 心之忧矣，如匪澣衣。 静言思之，不能奋飞。